Everything's Not Lost
by Almost Lilith
Summary: When their young children, Olivia and William, meet and become friends, Arthur Pendragon and Guinevere Vincent must get pass their differences and get over several false starts as they both cope with their demons following the devastating losses of their spouses. Modern AU, chiefly featuring Arthur and Gwen and their children.
1. First Times

The two of them returned to London a week ago — without his mother. Only a week and his son moped, whined and pouted more than he played with toys or asked to go outside.

_What would he be like in a month?_

"Would you like some more milk?" Arthur said to the top of his son's blond head.

William shifted in his seat, said nothing.

Sighing, Arthur drank his coffee in the lonely silence; he forced his shoulders not to droop. William is the the spitting image of him. And if you believe his old governess's stories, pouts at breakfast in the same way he had at that age.

Arthur checked his watch.

"It's nearly time for school," he said. "Would you like it if I drove you this morning?"

* * *

Unbuckling the safety harness, Arthur helped him from the car. He held his hand in his and took small awkward steps to accommodate Williams' short legs and his sluggish pace.

Other parents hustled to the entrance, children in hand or buzzing like bees around their knees. At the big doors of the private nursery school, the frenetic energy slowed to an orderly lane where the stern woman oversaw the comings and goings of everyone, doling out kind, but sharp, instructions to parents and teachers alike.

Closer by, a noise attracted Arthur to the ground a few steps in front of him.

"Excuse me," he shouted up ahead.

The woman carrying an overstuffed bag over one shoulder turned and looked back at him, brushing her dark, curly hair out of her face. She happened to stop in a halo of sunlight that peeked through the clouds and the leafy tops of the trees. Arthur noticed the freckles covering her nose first, then her brown eyes.

"Ah, you dropped your phone."

He bent and picked it up. The mangled device suffered a nasty crack on the glass and the screen flickered in and out.

"It might be broken," he said and handed it to her.

"Brilliant. And I'm already late. When it rains, it pours."

He watched as she fiddled with the buttons on the side, pressed random combinations of keys, anything to quiet the splintered screen. Her daughter meanwhile patiently stood by her side, holding a tiny cat-face shaped bag in one hand, the other locked in a fruitless struggle to tame her fringe — in truth, she'd lost that battle a long time ago.

Pretty, she took after her mother in more than looks, he determined right then and there. She inherited the same curly hair, though hers was shorter and scooped into two ponytails while her mother's tumbled over her shoulders.

Arthur smiled to himself, then his gaze wandered up and landed on the woman's face. Flustered, he ducked his eyes, his face burning from a spontaneous blush.

"Thank you," she said. Arthur raised his head. "Sadly, it looks like it's beyond hope. I remember these things use to take a fall a lot better than this."

"True. Wish I could've kept it from breaking. A split second earlier and I might've been able to rescue you…it. Rescue it."

She smiled wider and said, "I suppose that's life."

She shrugged her petite shoulders and corralled her unruly hair.

"Is this your little one?"

"Yeah. Yes. This is William. William say hello."

Arthur wiggled his arm, but William just stared down at their feet.

"He doesn't talk very much, does he?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"This is Olivia."

"Hello," Olivia said. She extended her hand and he shook it, and Arthur smiled again.

"Hello, William." Olivia's eyes studied William from a reasonable distance until she turned her chin up to him and said, "Why is he so sad?"

"It's his first day here," Arthur said.

In a loving stroke, her mother smoothed her fringe back and told her, "You remember what your first day was like."

Olivia nodded.

"Promise me you'll be especially nice to William."

"Okay," she agreed, returning her full attentions to reining in her hair.

"We should probably get them inside."

"Yeah," Arthur said.

The four of them started towards the school together, but the herd closed in around them and Olivia and her mother were swallowed up and soon disappeared out of sight.

They pressed forward, eventually finding William's classroom where he also found Olivia in the middle of a circle of five or six boys and girls, proudly showing off the contents of her bag.

Arthur crouched down and said to William, "That little girl is in your classroom and she promised to be nice to you. Will you be nice to her for me?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good boy."

William looked over the room then turned back to him and asked, "When will mommy come to see me?"

"Soon," Arthur told him. "I promise"

Arthur hugged him. He hovered by the doorway for a brief moment before he glanced at his watch and stalked off. Pulling out of the carpark, he called Vivian. Her phone rang once then went to voicemail.

"Vivian. It's Arthur." He paused for a long moment, pushed the air out of his chest in a long sigh and said, "We don't have to be at odds with each other. We both want what's best for William. And that has to be for us to be a family again. Vivian, please— "

A loud horn tore through the air before he could finish pleading. Arthur started and looked behind him at the impatient driver. He sped through the intersection, hanging up the phone.

Parents lie to children all the time. Sometimes it's to protect them from a painful situation and sometimes it's to stop themselves from confronting the truth.

* * *

Her car sputtered down the slippery street. She gripped the staring wheel and fixed her eyes to the road, angling the nose of the car over the thread marks already dug into the snow which came down heavier now than in the city.

"Can we sing _Molly, Polly and Gus_ again, Mommy?" Olivia asked.

"Okay, but this time I'll go first."

Olivia's face lit up in the backseat.

On a very unassuming Saturday afternoon like this one, the invitation to William's birthday party came hand delivered in a crisp white envelope to her door. Gwen almost choked on her tea when her brother read the address out loud to her.

They sung _Molly, Polly and Gus_ the rest of the way until they reached the gates. Gwen gawked at the mansion as they entered the circular driveway and she got out of the car. Less impressed by their surroundings, Olivia clung to William's gift, mumbling a verse from the song and kicking up lumps of snow.

She was surprised to see Arthur and William waiting for them at the top of the steps. Olivia pulled away and ran to them. She shoved William's gift into his hands and the two of them giggled to themselves.

"Can I open this one first, Daddy?" Gwen heard William asked when she stopped outside the door.

"I don't see the harm in that," Arthur said.

Arthur wore a suit that fit so well across his broad shoulders that it looked painted on and the dark gray color complimented his blue eyes. The sheer perfection stopped there however. His hair was tousled and those blues were bloodshot and puffy with overuse. Yet even in his obviously exhausted state, he looked regal.

Gwen felt for the furry collar on her coat, mentally criticizing her casual appearance.

"Guinevere." Her eyes darted up to his right away. She took in a hasty breath and shot him a crooked grin. "You don't mind if I call you Guinevere, do you?"

"No. No. Not at all."

He stepped aside and said, "Please. Come in."

She entered the house under a dome of inlaid dark wood. The panels extended down parts of the walls and in between them a clean white canvas of stone flanked by beautiful marble columns.

"Daddy, can I show Olivia my room now?"

"Would you mind?"

Gwen tore her eyes away and locked them on Arthur. "No. Not at all."

He grinned and said, "Go on then, but remember you have other guests to entertain."

William and Olivia headed for the stairs, holding hands. They chatted to each other and rushed across the landing then down the hall.

The children had grown close since October when they first met. Olivia had become very protective of the shier, quieter William and in his own way William did the same. But Gwen knew little about Arthur. She didn't even know his name for weeks after William's first day of school.

"Let me help you out of your coat."

"Oh," Gwen said.

She turned her back to him and undid the buttons on her peacoat. Arthur's strong hands did the rest. He smiled then walked the coat over to a small closet. Gwen glanced down at her jeans and shook her hand.

"There's all sorts of activities waiting for them, so don't worry, they'll be occupied for hours."

"I can tell judging from all the noise."

He walked back to her, hands stuffed in his pocket.

"I was expecting to meet Mr. Vincent finally."

Gwen brought her hands to her chest, twisting the band on her left ring finger then stopped and crossed her arms. It was a common mistake though not as often anymore. She kept Lance's last name and refused to take off the ring.

She tucked a curl behind her ear and met his eyes. "Um, my husband died last spring in a car accident."

Arthur's face went stark white then bright red.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she told him. "It's my fault. I still wear my ring."

"That's completely understandable," he told her.

They both fell silent.

The wrinkles on Arthur's face deepened. He raked his fingers through his hair, stared above her to the second floor and whispered, "Oh."

Whatever sudden realization hit him in the moment, he kept to himself. When it seemed he'd forgotten she was there, Gwen cleared her throat.

"Perhaps a drink?"

"Oh, of course," he said.

He touched her on her back and ushered her to the center of the mansion where about thirty or so children of differing ages were playing; behind them outside, fat snowflakes fell over the sprawling estate. Music piped out of bulky speakers adding a chorus-like effect to the shrieks and laughter. Costumed actors dressed as magicians waved cards in front of a group of faces. And on a massive stage against one of the walls more adults in makeup and period clothes acted out stories with dragons, knights and long-haired princesses in distress.

"This way," Arthur said. "Olivia and Will will end up in here soon."

They continued down the broad corridor to another, smaller room. Here, the parents mingled in a more sophisticated setting. Stoic waiters flittered about with shiny silver platters in their hands. A piano player played next to the bar and the bar was covered in crystal glasses that sparkled beneath the soft chandelier light.

Gwen tugged on the bottom of her jumper, the you-are-out-of-place feeling returning in full force. She opened her mouth, but Arthur abandoned her by the door.

She took a hesitant step forward then another until she ended up by the large hearth and by herself. That didn't last long though.

"Hello. And you are?"

The perky blonde dissected her from head to toe.

"Ah, I'm Gwen."

"Gwen." She tilted her head. "I don't believe I know that name. I don't think Arthur's mentioned it. Ever."

"Well he wouldn't. My daughter and William are friends from school. I don't really know William's father that well."

Her smile faded, but the woman's eyes remained hard and searching.

"I'm sorry I didn't catch your—"

She stalked off without another word. Gwen scoffed. Before she could shake off the woman's rudeness, she was approached by another.

"You'll have to forgive Elena. She can be difficult in the company of strangers. I'm Mithian."

"Gwen. I'm sorry. I'm still a little rattled. My head is still spinning." Mithian rubbed her shoulder. Gwen got the sense she'd been transported to another world. "This is a lot more than I anticipated for a four year old's birthday party."

"But it's not just any four year old. It's a Pendragon. This is somewhat low key."

Mithian left her too, though she desperately wanted the company. Gwen marveled at the ease displayed by everyone else around her. She panned across the room and frowned. Gwen didn't recognize a single face. None of these people had children attending William and Olivia's school, but surely William had other friends there. Why were they the only ones invited?

She pushed aside all the confusion and sought out a waiter, finally getting her hands on a glass of water.

Bored, Gwen slipped away and returned to the ballroom where she sat in a quiet corner taking in the happy faces of the children. Olivia and William did everything together. Wherever she went he followed and Olivia chased after him when he decided to run away.

The music stopped and the actors pretending to be King and Queen went to the microphone on the stage and summoned William. They ordered everyone to come closer and applaud as William was seated on a throne big enough for a full sized king, made out of wood but painted in gold with a purple cushion in what looked like velvet.

Gwen panicked when she saw them wheel out an enormous cake. She went over to a young girl, the magician's assistant, and said, "Shouldn't the other parents be here for this?"

"That wasn't in the program we were given, but you can stay and watch."

"Program?" Gwen asked.

She nodded and carry on.

Gwen looked about her. Despite everything telling her to stay put, she stomped out into the hall and went back towards the front of the house.

"Excuse me," she said to an older man. He wore a formal black suit and didn't appear to be a member of the acting guild.

"Yes ma'am."

Gwen hesitated a moment. "Um. Is Mr. Pendragon not coming back to the party?"

"Mr. Pendragon is in his office, ma'am."

She balked.

"Where is his office?"

"Right this way, ma'am."

Arthur's office was situated near the entryway, but she must have overlooked it when she walked in. The man knocked and Arthur barked in response, permitting him to come inside. He stood behind an intimidating desk, leafing through a thick bundle of papers. On the desk, leather bound books, folders and more stacks of paper covered the entire surface, except the square accommodating his phone.

His scowl softened and he said, "Guinevere."

The man in the suit dismissed himself. Arthur placed his work down and came around the desk.

"Is anything the matter?"

"No." His eyes squinted, clearly signaling he was unsure of her presence. "They're cutting the cake. I thought you'd want to see William take his first bite."

He pivoted towards his desk then turned back to her.

"I'm very busy."

"But it's his birthday," she said in a harsher tone than she intended.

"He's my son, Mrs. Vincent. I'm well aware of when he was born. I was there."

All his coolness evaporated in the heat of his reply.

"Well, you're not there for him now."

"Who do you think you are?"

"I was just concerned—"

"No one asked you to be," he shouted.

All the air left her lungs. Her hands balled into fists, fingernails pricking the insides. She squeezed them tighter and the stink in her palms sent her feet flying. She stormed out. By the time she got back to the ballroom, all the children were seated at small tables eating cake, ice cream and showing off their toys.

Olivia had joined William on the stage.

They sat alone.

Both of them seemed happy.

* * *

**I'll continue to update, but please review me please (*begging*). Anything would be 333.**


	2. Wounds

**First, I should apologize for the errors in chapter one. I hope chapter two is much cleaner. **

**Now, to everyone who read and especially those of you who took the time to leave a review I really appreciate it. Those reviews help us writers so much. I really enjoyed the ones with questions. It's nice to know exactly what's going through your minds after you read the chapters. **

**On with it then...**

* * *

For weeks all William talked about was Olivia's birthday.

And the more he went on about it, the more Arthur dreaded the day. Despite his anguish over feeling indebted to Guinevere again, he reminded himself that Will fixating on the alternative was far worse. So once more, his pride must suffer her indignation.

"Can we go _now_?" Will squirmed, threw his head back and clasped his hands together. _"Pleeeeease."_

"No," he said.

The antique grandfather clock struck at the same time. _Dong!_

Arthur crouched down. He tied the lace on William's right shoe, worked the left then stood and puffed out his chest. He stared down into his same eyes. William gawked back, his head tilted to one side; all the eagerness of blind optimism creasing his young features.

"I said no."

William's chin dropped and Arthur's shoulders hunched. His eyes trailed from his son to the hand cut coloured paper bent in half on the boy's bed. He snatched the card between his fingers and eased beside Will.

Pointing to the squiggly digit written in purple crayon he asked, "What number is this?"

"Three."

"Three," he repeated and flicked his wrist over. William's tiny body perked up. He brushed his fringe out of his eyes and grinned. He liked playing the countdown game. "Let's see here. What time is it now?"

Will clamped little hands round his wrist on either side of his watch, snickering.

"I don't know. I can't tell time yet."

Arthur suppressed his smile. For the game to have its fullest effect, he must remain stern-faced.

He placed a finger over the twelve and said, "When the big hand is on the twelve…"

"And the little hand is on the one," William chimed in.

"What time is it?"

"Half two," he said and cackled.

Arthur laughed.

"We still have a little while before Olivia's party starts."

"But I want to go now."

"Well, we can't," he said. "Not yet, but I promise we'll get in the car at 2:30 exactly. Real time. Not pretend time. All right?"

"All right," Will said.

In ten minutes Will will beg him again. And in ten minutes he'll think of a new way to distract him. In those minutes he'll distract himself from the somersaults in his belly.

He didn't fear seeing Guinevere. No. His disquiet stemmed from the energy it took to put up with her holier-than-thou attitude. And he could think of a hundred more desirable ways to spend a summer afternoon than to withstand her angry presence.

They never spoke after their row. Not immediately after and not in the months since. Thankfully they've only been in close proximity once in all that time.

At the children's Christmas recital, a week after the _incident_, she ventured near him long enough for Will and Olivia to hug. Guinevere managed a tight smile, though her eyes evaded his and her whole body stood rigid and unwelcoming. Their arms inches apart, his nostrils flare as he inhaled her perfume. Arthur readied his apology. But the second the children skipped off, she swept by him before he could utter a word. Heady notes of orchids melded with citrus and jasmine lingered in her wake.

Arthur decided to waited for her to find a seat.

He had a tendency to sit near the back of rooms and between William's performances used the vantage to study her. Guinevere sat close to the stage. More wallflower than social butterfly, she took pictures on her mobile and spoke sparingly.

* * *

Just before three o'clock, Arthur parked several houses away from the Vincent residence in the lone spot his silver Mercedes would fit along the narrow road. All different parts of him ached as he exited the car, anticipating the next few moments, the next few hours.

"Hurry up, Daddy"

"The party will still be there when we turn up, Will."

"But I want to see Olivia. She's waiting for me."

William jerked at his arm, tugging him with more strength than his body should possess. He turned his small face up and brandished two pleading eyes straight at him. That one look and Arthur gave in.

They hustled up the sleepy street to 1131 Sea Street, an ivy covered terrace house. Yellow and purple flowers in miniature terra cotta pots flanked one end of the walkway. At the foot of the ajar door a red and white polka dot toadstool ornament kept watch.

A cacophony of sounds defied the house's old charm, assaulting his ears before they reached the front step. Arthur craned his neck. No one was on the other side of the door, but he glimpsed shadows moving in the distance.

He smoothed his hair and led William over the threshold.

Decorated in a minimalist style, the bright and airy living room evoked a sense of peace, if not an irritating practicality. Its plainness surprised him (maybe bothered him). With all her heart and emotion, Arthur expected heirloom quilts, overstuffed pillows and knick-knacks pushing at the walls. And speaking of the walls. They were white and accented in muted blues that reminded him of the beach.

Not a surprise were the many clusters of family photographs, albeit arranged in an artistic design, on display around the house. In a manner befitting a proper mother wolf like Guinevere, Olivia's cherubic face claimed a majority of the frames.

In every other picture, Guinevere made an appearance. He spotted one of her stooped down in the shallow end of a pool, a petrified Olivia in her arms. Limbs encased in floating devices, Olivia might have been one, two if she were small. It was the only picture where she didn't smile.

Guinevere looked the same as the last time he saw her, with one distinction: she smiled. Arthur saw an openness in it and instinctively he knew who was behind the camera.

"Dad," William whispered.

He let go of Will's hand and held his shoulder instead. Arthur forced his eyes away from Guinevere, dragging them to a frame perched on the mantle. Taller than the others, this one boasted a tight black and white shot of mother and daughter and a third face — a man's face, smiling as wide as they did.

Arthur nudged Will towards the kitchen, his family and his failed married weighing heavy on him. He entered beneath an archway then froze the moment he came face to face with the man in the photograph.

Tall and bearded, his brown hair clipped the collar of his shirt. He leaned over the sink, a muscular arm elbow-deep in soapy water.

"Hello."

Arthur couldn't speak.

He grabbed a towel and dried his arm. "Here for the party?"

"Yes!" William said.

"Don't worry about that. Just a minor plumbing snag. I'll have it fixed in no time."

Will ran to the stranger. "I got Olivia the best present. I just know she's going to love it."

"I'm certain she will."

He shrugged as William dragged him out the door towards the noise. He didn't appear to mind the harassment, so Arthur let his son have his way.

Recovering, he started to reason he could sneak out now and come back at the end of the party. He spared a long moment to consider and missed his opportunity.

The man he wrongly assumed was the late Mr. Vincent poked his head back inside and said, "You coming, mate?"

Arthur stuffed his keys in his pocket and fell in line behind him.

The smell of roses filled the sun drenched garden. They bloomed from thick bushes that stretched along the perimeter of the grass. Deep and green, it begged him to take off his shoes and come walk barefoot from end to end.

Olivia stopped to wave. He shaded his eyes with one hand and waved back with the other. She had a climbing frame with a slide and swings, nothing elaborate like the unit Vivian insisted they had built during her second trimester back when they lived in Holland Park. Nesting birds got more use out of it by the time Will could walk.

More so than the interior of the house, this tranquil space, in a strange way, embodied the woman who brazenly called him a crap father in his own home.

Some of the guests noticed he joined them. Some nodded while a handful took lasting looks and the rests went on with their previous preoccupations.

"You want a beer?"

"Sure."

"Gwen just stepped out," he said with his back turned to him.

Arthur breathed easier.

He sucked down the beer and looked over the party attendees. Growing anxious with each passing second, he could almost hear the smooth swoosh of the second hand on his Patek Philippe.

This whole scene irked him.

Picturesque get-togethers with happy families in quaint neighborhoods where husbands and wives love each other unconditionally, never argued about money, politics, sex or the monotony eating away at their affections as they coddle their children with well-meaning phrases like 'Well, at least you did your best and that's all that matters', while expectation and responsibility stalk them patiently from the shadows, waiting their turn to pounce.

"So you're Arthur then?" The man paused. "Gwen's told me about you."

He tried not to imagine what colorful words she might've used. Tried and failed. And nothing complimentary came to mind.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Arthur said. "I don't know who you are."

"I'm Leon," he said and nothing further.

Arthur shook his hand, somewhat relieved, but even more curious.

He glanced over at William wondering what kind of widow wore her wedding ring for years, but kept no pictures of the man who gave it to her? Perhaps she stored those beside her bed so she woke up to his face every morning.

Arthur hoped not. That amount of grief would be unbearable.

"Will's a great boy," Leon said.

He probably noticed he'd drifted far away again.

"Thank you," he told him, despite the distinct impression that somewhere in the statement a slight had been directed at him.

Had he angered her so much that she'd disparage him to Leon? And what had Leon's response been?

Such a degree of pettiness didn't match her reserved grace. Whenever he thought he had her pegged, she zigged or she zagged, always escaping his perception to even now he couldn't get a clear fix.

"Leon!"

The call came from behind them and all his earlier trepidations reformed in knots in his stomach.

"Told you she wouldn't be long."

Guinevere appeared and saw him. Delight vanished from her eyes and she glared, a scowl twisting her lips.

"Did you get it?"

"It's on the table," she said to Leon, but she never unfixed him from that harsh glare.

She really didn't like him.

Leon zoomed across his vision temporarily blocking Guinevere as she came traipsing over in a stripy wide neck top that exposed her shoulders and collarbones. A gentle breeze caressed her hair, flouncing it about her face.

The knots twisted once more and a completely different sensation surged through him. Arthur gulped.

Guinevere folded her arms and said, "You're not expected to stay, you know."

He mimicked her quiet tone and asked, "Is that option exclusively for me?"

"Yes, but you wouldn't be the only one who'd relish in your going."

Arthur focused on an object just above her head which wasn't hard given her short stature. He breathed in deeply and leveled his eyes on her.

"Our children adore each other," he said.

"And that's the only reason you're even here today."

"Fair enough. Could we tolerate each other's company until this is over with?"

"Or you could go. Do us both a favor. I'd be happy to take William home and you wouldn't have to write me up a little program in advanced or pay me for spending time with your son."

She turned on her heels and went back the way she came.

Seven months.

Seven months and she still carried a grudge and sharpened it like a knife.

He could've stayed home. He could've sent William with Gunther. Gunther is one of the people he dispensed programs to and paid well for the trouble. But he came here himself to rob her of the satisfaction of believing she had him all sized up.

Arthur set the beer bottle next to the buns and followed her.

When he shouldered into the kitchen, Guinevere's brown eyes cut right through him and stabbed the wall at his back. She stuck out her chin and dared him to speak.

And he would've met her challenge had Leon not been holding a wrench between them.

"Old house, old plumbing," Leon said.

Arthur cleared his throat and looked back to Guinevere. "I suppose I'll see you later then."

"I'll be sure to bring William along as soon as we're done here."

He reached into his pocket for his mobile, glided through the screens to his number and handed it off to Leon.

"We should exchange numbers."

Gwen took his phone. She and Leon traded positions while she pulled out a black marker and scribbled his number on a piece of crumbled paper from the counter. No doubt, she'll crumble it up and toss it out with the rest of the rubbish later this evening.

She placed his mobile down and slid it across the counter back towards him. The instant their fingers touch, she yanked her hand away as if the contact could be fatal.

"It was nice meeting you, Leon."

"You too, Arthur. Sorry you can't stay."

"Next time," he told him with a sardonic smile while he glanced at Guinevere who returned an icy stare (and begged to differ).

Trapped in the middle of the tension like a fish in mud, Leon offered to walk him out. At the door, he slapped him on the back. Arthur stomped one foot on the step then whipped around and asked, "Is she always so stubborn?"

Leon grinned. "Gwen's not an easy one to charm, but don't worry. She'll come around eventually."

Charm her. He wanted to throttle her.

_Wait. _

Arthur looked up.

Was that why Leon came here? To charm her?

"You know." He chuckled. "When I saw that photograph of the three of you, I thought you were her late husband."

"Oh you saw that?"

"Just in passing," he said.

"Well, that would explain the look on your face from before." He shook his head and hid his eyes. "No. Gwen and Olivia moved in after Lance's accident. I wanted to do something to make them feel like this could be a good place to start over." Captivated with the sound of his own voice, Leon continued. "I'm an amateur photographer. I took that one, had it framed and gave it to Gwen last Christmas."

Arthur regarded him then said, "Well, that would explain the very large frame."

That time, Leon only almost smiled.

"I should go," Arthur said.

"Yeah, I think you should."

He walked pass the line of flowers and ambled up Sea Street.

Two years ago Vivian demanded a divorce and in return, he punished her for it. Their marriage didn't have to end so miserably, but they made choices.

Guinevere had no say in the way her marriage ended. One morning her husband — Lance — got out of bed and went to work. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except he just didn't come home. Of course days weren't a series of minutes or numbers to cross off on a calendar to her anymore.

I still wear the ring, she'd said.

His mother dying sent his father into a slow spiral he struggled for decades to free himself from. Yes, Guinevere infuriated him, but her resolve, however fragile right now, engendered him to hope.

If somehow Vivian could forgive him after all he'd done, he'd take a chance at reconciliation. He may not be in love with her, but Will meant more to him than his own happiness and Vivian will always be his mother.

Arthur drove to his office instead of returning home.

He worked. Soon though, he stared more out the window than his computer screen, daydreaming as the golden yellow flares of dusk splayed over top of West London and tourist-ladened clippers coasted up and down the Thames.

Around six o'clock, he called Vivian. The number was no longer in service.

At 6:30 his mobile rang.

"Guinevere," he said taking in a relaxed breath.

"Arthur." Her voice, soft and low, sent a shiver of terror up his spine. He shot out of his chair. She sniffled and said, "Arthur, I am so sorry."

Her voice quaked and his heart wrenched.

"What's happened? Where's Will?"

"We're on our way to hospital."

* * *

**A part of the reason this took such a long time for me to publish was because I didn't want you to have to wait long for chapter three. It will be uploaded soon. Please, please, please review. **


	3. Red Lights Grey Morning

Frenzy and order competed inside the A&E. Clatter banged in her head. Gwen paced and paced and paced. She scuffed over six white hospital tiles until everyone conceded that section of the ward to her anxiety.

The winter after turning seven, her mother complained of numbness in her hand. Her father and her brother took her to hospital. A battery of tests and the doctors determined she suffered a mild stroke. They treated it and she came home. Two months later she died. She'd contracted pneumonia during her stay and the symptoms went unnoticed. By the time they diagnosed her correctly, it was too late to save her life.

The powerful antiseptic smell turned Gwen's stomach. She focused on her feet, ignored the knifing pain in the back of her calves, and she paced.

Gwen hated three things: hospitals, disappointing her daughter and liars.

Olivia hadn't spoken since they found them by the slide, William curled in a ball and weeping on the ground. Olivia stood over him. In tears, she trembled. Her breath was shallow and she wouldn't say a word.

Head low, hunched over and tucked inside one of Leon's arm, Olivia looked much smaller than normal. Gwen remembered how she fit in her arms the day she brought her home. It seemed like yesterday.

Gwen raised her eyes to Leon's. He gave her a reassuring smile she couldn't return. Easing Olivia off him, he walked over and caught her shoulders.

"You need to calm down," he whispered, rubbing his palms over her arms.

"I know. I know. It's just… I've never liked hospitals."

"It's more than that and you know it."

A pained look slipped from behind Leon's normally steadfast mask of equability. Gwen blinked and his training corralled his emotions again.

"They're not made of paper."

"Or porcelain. Yes, I'm aware of that, Leon."

He sighed and said, "I broke my arm in Uni. I don't even remember it hurting."

"He's just a little boy. It's not the same. He was with a house full of strangers. No mother. No father. He was frightened, Leon. I can still see the terror on his face."

He studied her. Analyzing. Detecting.

"I'm scared," she admitted. "What if—"

"No what ifs, Gwen. We made a plan and we have a plan b, yeah?"

Once upon a time her life revolved around plans. She made hundreds. After a while, she started jotting them down in a diary. Her mates found them.

She missed the ribbings. And she missed not worrying all the time.

Since her world got upended, she had worries, one friend, one plan and a backup plan. That summed up her new life, outside of Olivia.

Gwen nodded and Leon gave her shoulders a firm squeeze as if to fasten her to the present.

"Olivia needs you to be calm. She doesn't need you retreating and going off on wild tangents."

"I know," she told him.

Some days all she wanted was her old life back. Some days she wanted to run away.

"Leon, we're lucky to have you in our lives," she told him, though more and more Gwen felt as if she and Olivia were an undue burden on his.

"I wouldn't want it any other way. You believe that, don't you?"

"I do," he told her.

Gwen didn't believe him.

"So. We are calm."

"Calm," she said.

"Good. Now go over there and let Olivia know everything's going to be okay."

Slumped in the chair, Olivia fiddled with the red satin ribbons on her dress. Gwen pinched her chin, lifting her face. Two big, solemn round eyes shimmered under the florescent bulbs. A tear rolled down Olivia's face and Gwen's heart fluttered.

When her little girl cried like this, the doleful expression lasted far beyond the whimpering and the tear-stained cheeks. But even on her worse days, a heart beat with Olivia erased all traces of her doldrums.

She had Olivia.

Olivia had William.

Gwen wiped her small face and said, "You know what Uncle Leon just told me?"

She shook her head.

"He told me he broke his arm when he was younger."

They looked over at Leon standing in front of the bay doors.

"See, he's fine now."

The doors behind Leon swung open and Gwen stiffened. As Arthur rushed in, she stood up on shaky legs. He spotted her and took three long strides in their direction.

Arthur glanced down at Olivia then at her. His face was flushed, but whether the tinge was the aftereffect of a flat out run from the car park or pure rage, she couldn't tell.

"Olivia, there's a machine over there. Why don't you help Leon pick something out for William. I bet he'll like that."

She brightened and bounced off the chair, taking Leon's outstretched hand. Gwen tracked them across the room. It occurred to her that she wasn't looking Arthur in the eye on purpose.

"What happened?"

"Arthur, please believe me when I say I'm so sorry for all of this."

Gwen watched his jaw grate as the long seconds without an explanation fueled an already dangerous fire. She searched for the perfect words to sooth him, but they seemed to sprout wings and fly away whenever she got close.

"I don't know," she told him at last. "We were in the house. We heard screaming. They said he slipped and fell from the top of the slide."

"They?"

"The other children."

"Well, what did Olivia say?"

"She hasn't said anything. Nothing at all." Gwen wrung her hands. "I'm so sorry."

"You were suppose to look after him."

"Arthur—"

He stalked off to the reception desk.

Gwen snapped her mouth shut. She couldn't move. She couldn't think. All she could do was worry.

Straight ahead of her, Olivia pointed up at the machine. Leon inserted coins and pressed buttons. Nurses and doctors conferred in small groups, laughed, studied their clipboards. Sick patients slouched in chairs or stretched out on gurneys. A spattering of people milled around the waiting room.

Her eyes watered, turning them blurry.

"The doctor's on his way now," Arthur said.

Gwen shuddered. She felt as if he'd leaned in close and growled at the back of her neck. When she turned around, Arthur paced in a circle, two large white tiles between them. He seemed more overwrought than irate.

The minutes dragged on like hours. Gwen kept still and out of his way.

"Mr. Pendragon."

Stethoscope in hand, a curly-haired, spectacled doctor approached them from the 'Staff Only' zone. Thin and tall, he moved swiftly down the hallway. Gwen walked beside Arthur and marched towards him.

"Arthur Pendragon." He greeted him with a cheery smile and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his long nose. They shook hands. "I'm Doctor Mark Clarkson or Doctor Mark. It's an honor to meet you. When I took this job ages ago, I never thought I'd be treating royalty. Well, near royalty anyway."

"Where's my son?"

Doctor Mark's jubilance wilted under the heat of Arthur's reply.

Terse. Withdrawn. This side of him rankled her to no end.

Where was that the nice man who wanted to rescue her phone? The gentleman who met her at his front door and took her coat? Where'd he vanish to? She found his shifts from accessible to aloof to callous unnerving.

"He's having x-rays done. We've administered something for the pain and should know shortly whether he sustained any other injuries, but it appears he's broken his femur. Ah, that's the thigh bone. Low energy falls are typical, especially for boys his age."

Practiced, Doctor Mark delivered the update to them both, finishing with a set of caring eyes on her.

"Is William otherwise healthy? Has he had any other trauma recently?" he asked her.

"No," Arthur answered him, curt and unfeeling.

This is how he behaves when he's worried, she told herself. This is him when he's nervous and afraid. When events are out of his control. She lashed out at Olivia's nanny once. That was not her finest hour.

"William was visiting with a friend today. This is her mother, Guinev—"

"Gwen," she said, stepping up and sticking her hand out to him. "What will happen next?"

The doctor's wary eyes flicked between them.

"Look," he said. "This sort of thing seems scary, but believe me, he's long past the worst of it."

"Doctor Clarkson, I'd like to transfer my son to another facility."

"It would be better if he were treated here now," he said. Arthur grimaced. "I can assure you, Mr. Pendragon—"

"I read the papers, doctor. Your assurances aren't worth—"

"Doctor," she said. Gwen reached out for Arthur and touched his arm. He tensed and she held her breath. "Doctor, we're certain you care very much, but we're all still very frightened."

Gwen questioned herself as the muscles in Arthur's forearm rippled under her fingers, relaxing then going limp. She glanced at her hand and he pulled the arm away.

Doctor Clarkson continued wondering about them to himself then said, "Of course."

He pulled his glasses down his nose.

"That's understandable as I said before. I'll go check on William's x-rays. In the meantime, you can decide how you'd like to proceed with his care, Mr. Pendragon."

"Thank you, doctor," she said.

No sooner did he leave, Arthur circled on her.

"William has the best doctors," he said.

The right words danced out of reach again.

Gwen stared blankly into his distraught face, into dark, crestfallen eyes. Arthur cursed, paced for a lap then planted his feet in front of her.

"If there's anything I can do. You don't need to ask. Anything."

He scoffed.

"Always the martyr."

"What are you talking about?" she said.

"Your neglect caused this."

"Arthur, it was an accident."

"You don't even know that for certain. You weren't there."

"Arthur—"

"You think I'll let you anywhere near my son again? You must be insane. You're lucky I don't have you hauled out of here in handcuffs."

"No," she said, but she barely heard it. She shook her head. "Arthur, please don't."

"It's not so nice to be accused, tried and sentenced all at once, is it?"

"Arthur, you have every right to be upset."

"Yes, I do. Thanks for informing me on how I'm suppose to feel. Now that I'm up to speed, I'd like for you to go before you find out just how upset I am."

She took two steps back.

"You are every bit as awful as I thought you were."

"In this case, I'm happy to have met with your disapproval, Mrs. Vincent."

Gwen staggered and said, "This isn't remotely about William. You're angry at me for—"

"For getting him hurt!"

"Gwen. Is everything all right?"

She spun around.

"Everything is picture perfect, Leon. Hope you didn't leave your camera at home," Arthur said and pushed passed them.

Gwen's chest heaved. Leon reached for her, but she waved him off.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing."

"I should take you and Olivia home."

He eyed her.

She heard him. She knew he was right. Logic commanded her to move, but instead she cried.

"Gwen, we need to go."

"But we have to wait for William to get better," Olivia said.

She snapped back to life and looked down.

_How long had she been there?_ _Had she heard them arguing?_

"We have to give William his chocolate. Mummy, please." Olivia's eyes glistened and the tears welled up. "Mummy, why are you crying?"

Leon picked her up. He rocked her in his arms and shushed her.

Olivia cried all the way to the car and most of the way home. As Leon drove, they said nothing to each other, exchanging wordless looks at every other red light.

"Olivia, you still have a few presents to open."

"I don't want to."

"Olivia." She rushed up the stairs, stamping her feet. "Don't you want to say goodnight to Uncle Leon?"

The door shut.

Gwen took in a deep breath and lower her body down on the stairs. Her legs were tired. She bent over, resting her elbow on her thighs.

"At least she hasn't graduated to door slamming," Leon said.

"She's only four. There's time enough."

He sat down beside her and said, "I could stay the night. Help you clean up."

"I caused this."

"Gwen, it was an accident."

"No. I provoked him."

"He'll calm down by morning."

"It's not that. He was hurting, Leon. I saw it in his eyes. I saw it from the moment I met him to the minute he walked through those doors. I saw it and I just kept pushing. I was so angry," she said.

"I _am_ so angry," she whispered after taking a short breath.

She denied fresh tears from fall, glancing quickly at Leon from out the corner of her eye.

Before he could say anything, she asked him, "What if he calls the police?"

"He won't call the police. I'm the police."

They listened to the old house creak.

"Maybe you should talk to someone, Gwen." Leon paused then said, "I know there are things you can't talk to me about. Feelings you have about what we've done that you can never share with me."

"We did the right thing, Leon."

"Just because it was the right thing doesn't mean it can't be painful. Even after years."

She looked at him and said, "I don't regret it. I just… I worry sometimes. And now there's this on top of everything else."

"Arthur won't call the police, Gwen."

"Well, I don't have your confidence, Leon."

He swallowed her into an arm just as he'd done with Olivia and she buried her aching head into the crook of his neck.

"I wish I'd never met the guy," she said.

"Me too."

He chuckled and she laughed with him, but it fell short of alleviating any of her concerns. It was more like a yawn, contagious, and in spite of it, her nervousness grew and flourished in the silence that followed.

"You've been here all day, Leon. You should go home before Jenny starts to wonder where you are."

Leon squeezed her and pulled her to her feet.

"You're sure you don't want me to stay."

"Positive," she said. "We'll be fine."

He took her hands in his and said, "Not so long ago you sacrificed everything for me. I promised to look out for you and Olivia. If Arthur calls anyone, I'll find out about it and I'll take care of it before it can do us any harm."

She might've laughed when he said that.

DI Leon Graves was a good copper and a good man. Under any circumstance, you wanted someone as dogged as him protecting you. But Arthur Pendragon inhabited the stratosphere, far above where his bravado (or misfortune) might lead him, regardless of his own pedigree.

"Say goodnight to Olivia for me."

"I will," she told him.

He's been the closet thing she's had to a true friend in recent years. He had a way with Olivia and was handy with a wrench whenever something in the house went to shit.

When he left, Gwen bolted the door and propped a fist on her hip, sweeping her eyes over the scraps of paper and discarded toy packages on the living room floor. More chaos existed in the kitchen.

_It can wait. _

Gwen knocked then opened Olivia's door.

Legs crisscrossed underneath her, Olivia sat in the middle of her bed, flying Tom through the air.

The stuffed bunny rabbit still had an ugly red stain on its arm and the fur was matted, but to Gwen's dismay the toy held together more than not. She'd refastened the left ear a dozen times (her sewing skills could benefit from more practice). The rest of the stitches stubbornly stayed intact.

Gwen hated hospitals, liars and disappointing her daughter.

She despised that bunny.

Every time she saw it she wanted to burn it and bury the torched remains in the garden.

"Olivia," she said sweetly.

She raised her head.

At times it stunned her how much they look alike at this age. Gwen thanked the gods for that. It would kill her to stare at her precious little girl and see any part of Lance.

"Are you going to pout all night?"

"I just wanted William to be okay again, Mummy. That's all. I didn't mean to make you cry."

Gwen cringed. She crossed the room and climbed onto the bed, positioning Olivia inside her thighs. She kissed the top of her head.

"You didn't make me cry. I'm so sorry I made you think that. Will you forgive me?"

Olivia nodded.

"I promise it'll never happen again," she said. Gwen glowered at the Tom's rabbit face and kissed Olivia in the same spot. "You know it may be time to give Tom a bit of a rest. You have a whole host of new toys downstairs. I could get you one."

Olivia took a minute to answer then said, "No, I still like him."

Gwen stroked her hair.

"I didn't even get to show him my room."

She lowered her face next to Olivia's and said, "I tell you what. Why don't we have cake for dinner and then I'll give you a bath. Would you like that?"

Olivia nodded. "Can we have ice cream too?"

She sighed. "Just one scoop. Come on."

Mercifully, Olivia abandoned Tom on the bed. Gwen snapped it up and tossed it on the pile of books they set aside for donating.

* * *

After Olivia's bath, Gwen read her bedtime stories twice, sung her to sleep then beelined downstairs.

She cleaned the mess up from the party. Mopped the floors. Wiped down the counters and kept an ear tuned to the road. From time to time, she peered out the windows looking for blue flashing lights.

By midnight, the house returned to immaculate shape.

Upstairs, she showered and washed her hair. She folded the laundry she'd put off doing for a couple of days then tiptoed down the stairs and checked outside the front door one more time.

She sat on the edge of the bed, squeezing the mattress and jiggling her legs.

At the first blush of grey morning, her worn out body finally wrestled her mind into bed.

* * *

**A/N: I still shocked by all your wonderful reviews. Thank you and I hope you keep reading to find out the answers to your questions. I promise they are coming. Please, please, please review. I'll have the next update very soon.**


	4. Purple Summer

Judging from the time on the clock, she slept a total of two hours.

Gwen laid in bed another five minutes and stared at her wedding rings on the table. Sighing, she stretched across the open space on the bed, reaching for them. One slipped from her fingers, clanged and rolled along a mild slope on her bedroom floor. It hit the far wall, clattered then came to a rest beside her bookcase.

She sat up. The room seemed to lighten, turning bright white then warm yellow, grey then black as if the entire day came and went in one moment.

Gwen sighed, threw back the blanket and padded across the room. Standing over the gold band, she hesitated. She touched the finger where the ring should've been, feeling the ridge it left in her skin. Bending down, she picked it up and stuck them back on her finger.

Gwen lumbered into the kitchen with her robe tied tight over her nightgown and started a pot of coffee.

No tea this morning.

Just moments before William screamed, she was laughing at one of Leon's jokes as she made her grocery list for the week. The last thing she wrote on the paper: tea.

She drank two cups of coffee before Olivia woke up. Her breath hitched the moment she heard the first riot of footsteps hammering the floorboards over her head. They flew down the stairs and stormed into the kitchen.

Olivia looked wild, flushed and breathing hard, her curly hair free of the ponytails.

"Mummy!"

Gwen prepared for this late last night. "What do you want for breakfast, love?" she asked.

Olivia swatted away the diversionary tactic.

"Can we go see William now?"

"I know. Pancakes."

"Mummy, I asked if we could go see William. Didn't you hear me?"

"Blueberry Pancakes!"

"Mummy," she whined.

The phone on the wall rang.

"Will you answer that for me."

Gwen said a small prayer and jumped off the stool. She opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves.

"Mummy, it's for you."

"Is it Uncle Leon?"

"No."

"Set it down. I'll be right there."

She reached for the bowl of eggs, the milk, and rummaged through packets of fruits and chopped veggies in search of the bag of blueberries. Gwen juggled them over to the counter where phase two was well underway.

Olivia found the coloring book and box of crayons she set out for her. Armed with three of them, she transformed the drab landscape into green leaves, blue puddles and purple grass.

"Hello."

"Guinevere."

Her breath hitched again and she heard someone gasp. Not someone. Her. He must've heard it too.

"Guinevere are you there? It's Arthur Pendragon."

"Yes. Yes, I'm here."

"I hope I'm not calling too early."

She glanced at Olivia. Walking over to the window, she said, "What do you want, Arthur?"

There was no immediate response then he said, "Guinevere, my life is not perfect." Pause. "A lot of this is new to me."

She had no idea what _this_ meant. A strong part of her didn't care for the excuse. He sounded exhausted and not particularly repentant, but she preferred the composed Arthur.

"How's William?" she asked, lowering her voice.

He breathed in, let it out. She imagined him raking fingers through his blond hair.

"Better. Somewhat. He's in one of those half-body casts. He'll need to wear it for the summer."

She squeezed her eyes shut, blackening the sight of William's tiny legs sticking out of a plaster cast. She wanted to crawl under the lowest rock in the deepest trench.

Yesterday was a disaster on so many levels.

"William is the reason I'm calling," Arthur said.

_No surprise there._

"He's been in a state all morning. I can't console him. I don't know what else to do. He's asleep right now. Doctor Mark finally convinced me to give him a sedative."

"Doctor Mark," she said. "You didn't have him transferred then."

"No. It was for the best, right?"

"I suppose so."

She ran her fingers down the length of her robe belt.

"I considered stopping by to see you," he said. Her fingers stilled. "I wanted to apologize in person."

"Arthur, I'm the one who should apologize to you," she said without thinking.

His end of the line was quiet. Gwen wandered further from the kitchen and Olivia.

"Guinevere, would you mind bringing Olivia to see William? I know it'll cheer him up."

She stared out the window at the garden, at blue skies and green grass and the big red slide. On the swings, fat dew drops glinted like diamonds in the early sunlight. It was serene and beautiful.

"Guinevere?"

She dropped her head and said, "Arthur, I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'm not asking you for the world."

"It isn't that," she said. "Arthur we argue, all the time. We don't even know how to be civil to one another."

"I've tried apologizing before. That night at the recital, but you refused to give me the opportunity."

"If apologizing was really that high on your list, I'm certain you would've done it. And besides, it's obvious after what you said last evening it wouldn't have been sincere."

"Is there a particular reason why you hate me?"

"You threatened to have me arrested."

"I didn't mean that."

"Oh," she said. "How foolish of me to ever worry since of course, you didn't mean it."

"Fine, Guinevere, I said some things I'm not proud of, but what about you? What happened to anything I needed? To never having to ask for your help?"

"Maybe I'm just done with being a martyr. There's no use in it."

He went silent again, but by then she'd run out of steam.

"I can't keep doing this with you," he muttered. "It's down to you. Come. Don't come. Whatever you decide."

The line clicked then went dead.

Gwen dropped the phone from her ear. Her eyes went straight to Olivia — still coloring, still hoping to see William at some point today.

She groaned and forced herself over to the stove to start on the pancakes.

* * *

Gwen glanced between Olivia and the fork on her plate with a chunk of syrup-soaked pancake hanging from the end.

"You're not eating."

Olivia dropped her crayon, picked up the fork and stuffed the wedge into her mouth. The doorbell rang out in the house followed by a loud knock.

"Eat your breakfast, Livvy."

Gwen retied her robe and shuffled to the door while the doorbell ringing and the banging continued.

"Just a minute," she shouted as she undid the lock and pulled back the door.

"Hey," Leon said and barged in. "Tried my key. Bolted the doors last night?"

"Yes. What are you doing here so early?"

"I knew you'd be up."

He handed her the Sunday paper and walked towards the kitchen.

Seconds later, Olivia squealed and giggled. When she entered the kitchen, Leon was flipping through the coloring book with Olivia on his lap.

"What's in the bag?"

"Your eternal gratitude," he said. She opened the Tesco shopping bag, smiled and looked up at him. "I know you're not quite yourself without your morning tea."

"Thank you," she said. "Pancakes?"

"Oh, I'm not hungry. How was your night?"

She made a telling face.

"As expected," he said. "But I did say you had nothing to worry about."

"Apparently not." She tilted her head and told him, "Apparently, he didn't mean it."

"He called you?"

"Bright and early." He took her in then looked down on the drawings and flipped the page. "What?"

"I'm thinking," he said.

"Can I have my book now, Uncle Leon?"

"Sure, love."

Olivia squirmed to the floor, book and purple crayon in hand, and ran to the sofa.

"William's in a cast," she whispered, leaning on the counter. "Arthur asked me to bring her by."

"Of course he did."

"I told him no."

"Now, that is unexpected news." Leon looked at Olivia and said, "I thought you'd at least let her see him today."

"You think I should?"

He faced her and said, "I think you did the right thing. I know you'll do anything for Olivia, but perhaps not this. Consider it a blessing Will's all right and that Arthur's come to his senses. And don't see this guy again."

* * *

She stepped out of the lift, Olivia skipping beside her. They went up to the nurses station, but before she could ask for help someone said her name. She looked at the woman and Gwen remembered her straight away.

Mithian.

"It is Gwen, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"And little Olivia. Will told me it was your birthday yesterday. I'm so sorry I didn't get you a present. Why don't I make it up to you now and take you to his room. It's just this way."

"Okay," her daughter said.

Olivia's fingers twitched inside her palm as they went with Mithian down the hall.

"How's he doing?" Gwen asked.

"Which one do you mean?"

Gwen stared dumbly, her mouth agape.

Mithian laughed.

"They're both a little surly," she said then added, "It's just up here."

William had a room all to himself. Arthur stood at his bedside with his back to them, one hand flat on the bed, the other braced on the bedrail; his large presence blocked everything immediately in front of him.

Mithian sauntered up to him. She wore a delicate white dress, cut to enhance her slender frame, and heels in a decadent jeweled-toned red that matched her fingernails and lipstick.

"Arthur, I got you your coffee. Cream. Two sugars. And look who's here."

He turned his head. Gwen drew in a sharp breath and smiled from underneath the doorway until a pull carried her further. Olivia dragged her midway across the room, then stopped.

"Liv," she said, looking down on her.

Gwen swung her bag to her backside and squatted. She cupped Olivia's face, lifting it. She was near tears.

"Olivia," she whispered.

Arthur appeared beside them then, going down on one knee. He smiled at Olivia.

"It's looks very scary, doesn't it? When the doctors told William he could choose any color he wanted for his cast, right away he said purple."

"He did?" Olivia whimpered.

"He did and right afterwards he told them purple was the favorite color of someone named Olivia."

She smiled, her spirits lifted. Gwen glanced at Arthur and pressed her lips together to keep her own smile under control.

"He's been waiting all morning to see his best friend. You won't disappoint him, will you?"

Olivia shook her head and Arthur picked her up. Gwen watched him nestle her next to William's hip on the bed. William smiled, weak and listless, his heavy eyelids opening and closing slowly.

"Hi, Livia," he murmured.

"Hi."

Gwen admired her daughter, William, Mithian and Arthur from a distance; the four of them smiling and happy. Adjusting and readjusting the strap on her shoulder, she crossed and uncrossed her arms then surrendered to a need, training her eyes on Arthur.

He looked impeccable in his wrinkled shirt. He hadn't changed out of yesterday's clothes, probably hadn't slept very much either, but he looked so good, and so distracting.

Gwen touched her mouth and allowed her mind to wandered, just for a minute, down a path it hadn't traveled in a long time — not since Lance.

A fingertip slipped between her lips as she undressed him with her eyes, remembering the feel of his hand on her back and the strength of his arm in her hand. She pictured his naked flesh under his shirt next, but then the back of the blue shirt turned around and the buttons started coming towards her.

Gwen dropped her eyes from his chest and opened the flap on her bag.

"Um, we had pancakes for breakfast."

She brushed aside her curls and presented him with the container, shoving it under his nose. He had to stop short to avoid running into her extended arm. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he stared at the food in her hand rather than at her, mid-blush.

"In case you didn't like the hospital food," she said. "They're blueberries."

She snatched the container away.

"You're not allergic, are you? I hadn't even considered that."

"No," he said. Casually eyeing the pancakes, Arthur said, "Thank you. I hadn't even thought of food."

"It's true."

Mithian came over and Gwen's skin cooled off considerably. She took the pancakes from him and inspected them too.

"I'd introduce you, but it seems you already know each other."

"Yes," Mithian said. "We met at William's party last year. We spent a little time talking."

One side of Arthur's mouth curled up in a shy, boyish smile.

_Was he flirting with her?_

"Gwen, would you do me a favor and take him outside, please. He hasn't breathed fresh air in a day. And, if I'm honest, I could use a decent cup of coffee from the little place across the street. So could he for that matter."

Gwen felt four eyes on her, but regarded Mithian's only.

"I could use a walk," Arthur said. "Would you mind looking after the children for us while we're out?"

"No problem. You know what I like." Mithian said to him.

Arthur laughed. His eyes crinkled in an adorable sort of way.

She rolled her eyes. Arthur turned and faced her, then his smile receded.

Gwen crossed her arms and headed out the door.

* * *

He held the door open for her.

The day had darkened and ominous clouds blanketed the city. Outside of William's room and hospital for the first time in hours, Arthur breathed in deeply. He choked on car fumes.

His neck ached. So did his back. He longed for a hot shower, a long bath. He missed his bed.

He was pleased Guinevere decided to come after all, but she walked alongside him like a ghost and he sensed the coldness heading his way.

"I think we were meant to talk," he said to no reply.

They crossed the street and walked passed several doors before arriving at the cafe. She quickened her steps and entered ahead of him.

As they waited, he said, "Thank you for coming, Guinevere. It's obvious you didn't want to."

"I didn't do it for you."

Frigid, but at least she spoke. He considered it progress.

"Would you like anything?"

"No, thanks."

Arthur ordered the strongest brew in the shop and a caramel thing-y Mithian tended to favor.

"Could we sit for a moment?" Another rejection coming his way, Arthur said, "Guinevere. Please."

She sighed. "Fine."

She slung her bag over the back of the chair and sat across from him, gazing around the shop for something to look at other than his face.

Arthur rolled his eyes and said, "I shouldn't have yelled at you and I shouldn't have threatened you. There was no excuse for my behavior. I was wrong and I'm sorry."

Finally, she looked him in the eyes. She twisted, folded her arms across her body and said, "Apology accepted, but…"

He scooched to the edge of his seat and waited while she chewed her lip and stared at him.

She ducked her eyes then said, "Nothing. That's it."

Deflated, Arthur chuckled.

He sipped his coffee and shook his head, watching a crowd assemble at the corner of the street. He negotiated mergers that didn't stress him this much.

"I'm not a bad person, Guinevere."

Traffic stopped and the pedestrians crossed in front of the idled cars, splintering off as they reached the other side.

"I don't really care what sort of person you say you are. From most of what I've seen it's not the sort I like."

The light turned green and the cars rolled through the intersection. A few umbrellas popped open and raindrops pitter-pattered the window.

Arthur placed his cup next to Mithian's. When he raised his eyes, they met her brown ones.

"I want us to put aside our differences. For the sake of the children. William will be starting school next year. It wouldn't be forever."

"You think they'll stop being friends simply because they'll no longer be in school together."

"I don't know," he said. "But, I'd be willing to forget all that's occurred between us and start fresh, if you will too."

* * *

**A/N:**

**A few things: **

**1) I couldn't decide for the life of me what kind of tea my Gwen would drink. I thought perhaps green tea, or maybe chamomile. What do you guys think? I'll include the most popular answer in a future chapter.**

**2) scooch (ed) is a word that I grew up hearing and using all my life only to find out that it's not a word?! in spellcheck. Anyway, if you're unfamiliar with it, it just means to move a short distance.**

**3) A loyal reader/reviewer/follower (thank you for all the love) begged for a quick update and since this chapter was ready I'm posting it early, but you should expect weekly updates on Tuesdays or Wednesday unless disaster strikes.**

_**Important News! **_

**Just after starting this story, I began freelance writing. Despite having a project due in the next few days, I couldn't keep away from this story, but there may be lags in my writing schedule. I hope you guys are enjoying reading it as much as I am loving writing it. Probably not since I know all the juicy bits coming up. **

**Please review and let me know what you think, please, please, please. I'm blown away by the response to this story and appreciate all your support. Hang in there and stay with me. Chapter 5 is nearly done.**


	5. Moonlight Sonata

Gwen drove home in a fog. As she slid the car into park, it lifted somewhat. The rubber strips scraping across glass drowned out the low hum of the engine while she sat and stared into the yard. The wipers swept from side to side, cleaning away the raindrops.

Was that the secret? Swipe away your history and you can tolerate someone again?

Tears welling in her eyes, Gwen let go of the steering wheel. She yanked at her rings, twisting them up her finger. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the front door open and her brother appear under the doorway. Gwen slipped the rings back on and wiped her face.

"Elyan," she said getting out of the car. Gwen hugged him right away. He patted her head and picked her up in his arms. "What happened to you yesterday?"

"Work," he said. He set her down and asked, "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Just something stupid on the radio," she said. "Could you get Olivia for me, please?"

She reached back inside the car for her satchel while her brother went into the back. He took Olivia inside without her even stirring. Gwen sighed as she stopped at the foot of the stairs and watched him take her up to her room. When she heard Elyan entering the kitchen, she turned away from the window.

"So where were you?" she asked.

"I told you. I couldn't get out of work. I'm sorry, but I got her an amazing gift. Skates. Remember how much you loved ice skating?"

"Elyan, she misses you and she's not a smaller version of me or me when I was her age. She has her own interests. I'm going to get dinner started. Chicken sound okay?"

"I can't stay, Gwen."

"Elyan, we just got here. Olivia hasn't seen you in a month."

"I know and I'm sorry, but I have to get back. I thought you'd be here."

"One of Olivia's friends broke his leg. We've been visiting with him all afternoon. I wish you'd call."

"Sorry. Again. Is the kid all right?"

"Yes, he's fine now." She hugged herself, sliding the rings around her finger with her thumb. Her brother reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope. "I don't want it," she said.

"Gwen don't be like that. You know how my job is."

Yes she did. Elyan's work came first. Whatever his work was. She pestered him a lot about it in the beginning. It pays well, that much she knew. One envelope from her brother took care of six months of regular expenses and the bill for Olivia's schooling went straight to him.

"No, it's not that," she told him. "I got a job."

"Gwen, that's great." She forced a smile. "Well, come on. What is it? You didn't even tell me you were looking again."

"I can't expect to live off of you forever." Gwen rounded the counter to his side and sat next to him. "You might meet a nice girl on one of your long business trips, get married and have children of your own."

"I told you that's not going to happen for a long time."

As far as she could tell her brother stopped dating ten years ago. Another consequence of his work.

He beamed at her and said, "I'm proud of you, sis."

She smiled back.

The usual visit from her brother meant hours of self-reflection, ending in a warm tub, half a bottle of dry red wine, a myriad of mistakes conjured up from her past.

Gwen felt a change in the air.

* * *

She cursed herself for not driving. She missed her bus.

Gwen hustled up the posh street, checking the address. The referral came at the last minute, but Luke Campbell would be her first long term client provided this first impression survived her tardiness. She straightened her dress and rang the doorbell.

"Mrs. Vincent?" the man asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry I'm late."

The butler stepped aside and she walked into the house. Luke Campbell and Mrs. Louise Campbell stood across the foyer. Luke smiled at her. Luke's grandmother didn't.

Tall and magnificent, Mrs. Campbell retained her beauty underneath years of frown lines. Luke shared her blue eyes, but his head was covered in dark curls.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Mrs. Campbell."

The old woman's frown deepened. "This will not be a habit, I trust."

"No, Mrs. Campbell. I misjudged my timing getting here that's all. It won't happen again."

She left and Gwen breathed a sigh of relief.

"The old cow's like that with everyone," Luke shouted.

Gwen clapped her mouth shut, looking down the hall. She expected to see Mrs. Campbell storm back towards the front of the house, haul Luke away and dismiss her, but Luke chuckled at his own joke and his grandmother never reappeared.

"The piano's this way. Alfred get us some tea."

"It's Charles."

"Whatever," Luke said.

Gwen gave Charles a pitying look and followed Luke into the parlor. It was more of a music room with a stunning baby grand piano anchored inside the window overlooking the neighborhood. A harp and a violin rested against the wall.

Luke sprawled over the bench, eyeing her. Gwen crossed the room, stripped off her jacket. The look on the teenager's face prompted her to hoist it back over her shoulders.

"What've you got in your bag?" he asked.

"Sheet music mostly," she answered. Gwen went over to him, dropping her bag and sitting on the small space on the bench he didn't occupy. "Why don't you play something for me."

"Like what? Something sad? Or something beautiful?" He raked his eyes over her. "I know."

Luke lifted the fallboard and faced the keys. He flexed his fingers and started playing the first movement of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No.14 without hesitation or the slightest difficulty.

"Something sad and beautiful. Just like you," he said, glancing at her.

Neck and face reddened, Gwen shifted as far away from Luke as possible and listened. His skills surpassed anything she could teach if she had an entire year to teach him. As it were, the tutoring would end in six weeks when Luke returned to school.

Charles entered with tea and biscuits then drew the doors close. Heavy, haunting notes amplified in the room. Gwen inhaled. The chamomile reminded her of her mother.

"Stop," she said low and instantly Luke obeyed. "Why are you doing this? You don't need lessons from someone like me."

"Grandmother thinks the two hours are better spent inside than out. She thinks it will keep me out of trouble." He crunched his elbows on the keys. "She hasn't found out about me and the last one yet."

"Sorry?"

Luke grinned, cocksure and she understood. Gwen sighed and checked the time.

_Why do I even bother?_

"Listen, we'll finish for today. You can play whatever you like then you can tell your grandmother to find another, a better tutor for you and she doesn't have to pay me."

"Aww, but I like you."

"Luke, whatever you're thinking is going to happen between us, isn't, so you can just forget about it."

"Don't like them young?" He looked her up and down. "Maybe you like girls. Is that it?"

"You know, if you'd drop the bad boy act, I bet your grandmother wouldn't give you such a hard time. I'm just going to go."

He grabbed her arm and said, "Stay. Please."

"Let go of me Luke."

"I'll behave if you stay. Promise."

The next hour and forty-seven minutes transformed her mood. Luke transformed too, into a proper gentleman and she even felt comfortable enough to shake out of her jacket. When she left, Gwen didn't commit to a second lesson, but the minute she boarded the bus, Luke texted her mobile asking again.

"When did the little bastard steal my number?" she grumbled.

* * *

"Arthur."

"Arthur?"

He blinked and everything came back into focus. "I wouldn't object to that," he said.

Elena giggled. Her gaze lingered while the others moved on to the next paragraph and Arthur second-guessed himself.

They met in school. Elena never liked Vivian. She suffered through several of his ex-wife's dinner parties and came on to him the night before his wedding. At the first whiff of trouble between him and Vivian, she reappeared like magic, eager to comfort and please.

A week ago Elena pitched him her internet marketing company and now they were here, negotiating deal terms.

"I really think this will be brilliant Arthur."

"Hmm."

"Is that all you have to say?"

He looked at her from across the lift and said, "It seems all good on paper, doesn't it?"

Her face morphed through a procession of emotions then settled on a smile.

"You were always sour in the afternoons, but what's got you so out of sorts?"

He shook his head. "Will's getting out of his cast on Wednesday."

"Oh, how is he?"

"Excited. He can finally run around again."

Elena laughed, school girlish and not at all subtle. "So where are you taking me for lunch? I wish we could've gone to dinner instead."

"Perhaps another time."

"It could be like the old days. Arthur, there's something I've been meaning to ask you." The lift jerked softly at the lobby then the doors slid open. "I have tickets to the ballet. Would you like to come with me?"

"The ballet," he said.

They walked past security and Arthur saw the last person he expected to see pop out of a seat and bound over to him.

"Arthur," Guinevere said.

She wore a bright yellow dress. The color flattered her complexion, her eyes too, and she stood out in a dismal sea of blue and black three-piece suits. She changed her hair, braiding and pinning it in a bun.

"Mrs. Vincent. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. Well, I tried." She glanced behind him. Smiling, she said, "I guess you're not very keen on unscheduled visits."

Arthur laughed. He leaned close, smoothed his hand down his tie and said, "They can be a little overzealous."

"Arthur, who is this?"

"Oh, Elena. Sorry. This is Mrs. Vincent. Her daughter's a friend of Will and I really wasn't expecting to see her."

"Well, we're going to be late for our lunch," she said. He frowned and Elena turned to Guinevere. Smiling now, Elena offered her her hand. "It's so nice to meet you?"

"We met before."

"Did we? I don't recall."

"It was brief. I'm not surprise you don't remember. I barely remember," Guinevere said.

Arthur stood between the two women. Elena would ask him how high if he told her to jump. Guinevere told him off at their last meeting and refused him a second chance when he practically went down on his knees and begged for one.

"Elena, I think Mrs. Vincent has been trying to see me. Would you mind if I caught up with you at the restaurant? I won't be far behind. Take my car. I'll call for a taxi."

Elena bristled. "I have my own car, Arthur. Don't be long."

That last bit was an order. Elena sauntered to the door; the entire lobby watched her leave. He turned away, smiling. Guinevere was still peering outside, straining, in fact.

"I have her number if you're interested."

The quip regained her attention.

"Now I know something must be wrong. You're actually smiling at me." As soon as he made the remark, she pressed her lips together. "Oh come on, I thought we were having a nice moment, or something, at last. Don't go spoiling it."

"Arthur, I know the last time we talked things between us weren't very…warm."

"I believe you said you'd rather rip your tongue out before you ever spoke to me again."

"In retrospect that does sound a tad dramatic."

"I was hopeful it was merely a bluff. Seems a waste of a perfectly good tongue."

She chuckled and said, "I know I was very definitive about us that day."

"Quite explicit actually."

Like her daughter might, she dropped her head and worried her fingers with the buttons on her jumper.

"Arthur, I need to apologize to you first and then I should tell you that I may have been misplacing some of my anger onto you."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

He should be angry. He should be standing before her with arms folded and a glare permanently etched on his face. If not one of those, then he should be gloating. Instead he couldn't keep from grinning.

"I am truly sorry," she said. "And I'd like to ask for your forgiveness."

Arthur ignored his phone vibrating in his pocket. It could only be Elena calling.

He felt transported in time. Their first meeting went somewhat like this. That moment a year ago, seemed like a lifetime away from this minute.

"So what changed your mind?"

"Well, I've been sat in your lobby for over an hour trying to convince that man over there that I wasn't stalking you. That was a very humbling experience."

"Sounds like torture."

She brushed her hair from her face and he noticed her left hand.

"How's Will?"

"He's out of his cast in two days. He misses Olivia."

"Not as much as she misses him. She never stops hounding me about when they'll see each other again."

She bit her lip and his over the moon feeling burst like a bubble, the joy swallowed up in an ocean of understanding. Guinevere's nice girl routine wasn't for him, or about her or them. It was all done for Olivia.

"Apology accepted," he told her.

"Could we start over then?"

"Sure. Why not?" Guinevere nearly jumped out of her shoes. Sighing he loosened his tie then said, "I should be going."

"Oh, right. Lunch."

Rubbing his forehead, Arthur took two steps towards the door, stopping just as abruptly as he started. He turned back to her.

No, he thought. He wouldn't let her win again. This time he'd draw blood first, or at least last blood.

"Guinevere."

"Yes, Arthur."

No, he could not let her win so easily this time.

Right here. At this precise moment. In his lobby would be her Waterloo.

Arthur marched right up to her.

"I have this party I have to attend next weekend. They're not usually my sort of thing, but it's for a good cause and I was thinking maybe you'd like to join me. As my date."

"Excuse me, as you're what?"

He grinned a tiny bit.

"It's a charity auction."

"Oh. You know, I don't think that'll be possible. Finding someone to look after Olivia is always—"

"That wouldn't be a problem. You and Olivia are welcomed to stay at the mansion with us. It would be like an end of summer sleepover for the children. They'll love it. And wouldn't some time together alone in an adult setting be good a way for us to say we're really starting over and truly making a go at it?"

She said absolutely nothing coherent. Arthur watched her fumble and fail to find a way to tell him no.

"You let Olivia know and I'll call Will right now." He reached inside his pocket for his phone. "He'll be so excited to see Olivia. Don't worry, I'll have my P.A. get you all the details."

He replayed the moment all through his lunch with a less than forgiving Elena. He tried not to feel so full of himself, but the satisfaction of the minor victory just seemed to grow and grow the more the day passed.

As he removed his cufflinks and climbed the stairs to check in on Will, it struck him that he'd just asked Olivia's mother on a date. He leaned against William's bedpost, recalling Guinevere's brief smile, the yellow dress, and how the world appeared plain compared to her. He even remembered how she moved her hair out of her face. And that she no longer wore her wedding ring.

* * *

**A/N: Please forgive me. It was the curse of committing. The instant I gave you an expected date for updates would surely be when time considered against me. And please forgive any errors. I'll come back and clean them up later, but I wanted to get this out tonight. I hesitate to say Chapter 6 next week, but Chapter 6 next week. Please leave comments, feedback, questions, rants. No. No rants. I had a tough week and I'm honestly in need of some love. **


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